


A Dreary Sunday Night

by Mara_uh



Category: Captain America (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Depressed Peter Parker, Depressed Steve Rogers, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicidal Peter Parker, Suicidal Thoughts, angst???, i don’t even like Steve wtf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 16:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara_uh/pseuds/Mara_uh
Summary: Steve just wants it all to end.Pete- ahem-Spider-Manhas an objection.





	A Dreary Sunday Night

Peter had seen depression before the bite. In fact, he had stared it in the mirror for about two years at that point. So yeah, he figured he could call himself aware of the signs. And on a dreary Sunday night, to his dismay, he was looking straight at one of them on the Brooklyn Bridge. Or, rather, atop it. Somehow, a man had managed to wrangle his way up to the top of it and sit. The view was bleak and the smell of rain wasn’t much of a comfort. The drumming of it a calming constant as it fell to the depths of the East River, which was consuming every drop eagerly. The sky hung over the bright city like a curtain, leaving room for only a sliver of moonlight, which lit up a stretch of the water below. But the man wasn’t looking at the water, it was more so of the fact that he seemed to be looking through it. He was going to jump. 

 

Peter would be a hypocrite to tell him that suicide wasn’t an answer; as if he hadn’t longed for the blades he stashed in his bathroom, or the rope which lay on his closet floor. But he wasn’t Peter. He was Spider-Man now. And Spider-Man wasn’t supposed to be anything but a benevolent figure to the citizens of Queens. So he swung up, and started to talk.  
And that was when he saw the man’s face.

 

 

Steve didn’t have much to live for. The avengers didn’t need a leader who could just barely operate the comms. Bucky was just barely alive. Peggy was gone. So was Howard. And basically anyone else he had ever known. The team could work just fine without him. That is, if he hadn’t broken them apart over a friend who hadn’t believed in him until he was enhanced. 

So there he sat, on the top of the Brooklyn Bridge, rain drenching his hair and flattening it, eyes scanning the water below him, but not really seeing. 

He was too busy wondering whether a fall would kill him. 

And apparently, that thought was written all over his face as well.

 

“It’s not fatal. At least, not to you. Or me.” 

He didn’t know why he said that, why it was the first thing to come to mind, but as he swung himself onto the cold stone next to the man, it slipped out of his mouth. 

The man turned his head and Peter- no,- SpiderMan’s suspicions were confirmed. 

“How would you know?” 

The voice was gravelly and rough, choked, yet lacked the authority he had heard in so many PSAs. 

Steve Rogers- holy crap- narrowed his eyes. Still scanning the water below. 

“Because-“ The arachnid sat next to Steve, his shoulders relaxing. “I’ve tried.” 

Suddenly more alert of the figure next to him, Steve turned his body a bit and opened his mouth to ask when he turned his head and interrupted. 

“Now I know you’re some sort of enhanced guy, I get it, but I am too. A fall like this will- maybe, if you’re lucky- give you a cold.” 

What the fuck was Spider-Man doing? He had never talked someone down before, how was someone supposed to do that??? And how did getting someone down work when they were in the top of the Brooklyn-freaking-Bridge?!?

“What if I want to try anyways?” 

The words were out of Steve’s mouth before he had a chance of comprehend them. It was his impulse and pure desperation for an end to all of the pain that forced them out into the open. 

“Then you’ll have one hell of a cold and a note saying ‘I told you so’ slid under your door by morning.”

Steve looked out at the slit of moonlight, pouring onto the river. He wasn’t wrong, in any way. It wouldn’t make sense for him to do it even after being told it won’t stop anything. But still- 

“So-“ The man in the mask sat up a bit straighter and looked at the view. “How about we get ourselves down from here and talk about why you want to give yourself a fever, yeah?” 

Steve just wanted an end to all of the chill settling into his bones and the icy feeling in his chest- he had had enough of it for one night. 

So instead of falling through the wind like he wanted to, and letting his body be tossed in a rushing stream of frigid water, he nodded.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while loopy. It was originally just an idea I had & shared with a friend.


End file.
